Childhood
by Emi-Chan1
Summary: This is a three-part story of mine that explores what the main characters' childhoods might have been like. I just got the the third part on Miranda done :)
1. Declan

Rrrrrrinnnnnnggggg!  
  
Declan's alarm clock went off at 7:00, as always. In one fluid motion, he turned his clock off, grabbed his glasses, and shoved them in front of his eyes.  
  
It was time to start another day at school. The thought made him want to go under the covers and never come out again.  
  
Declan was the perfect example of a geek. He got perfect scores on tests, tripped at least once a minute, had a really weird name (he still wondered what had possessed his Mom and dad when he was born), wore huge black rimmed glasses, was terrible in gym class, and always wore wrinkled and dirty clothes. He would probably have clean clothes more often had he actually put his dirty clothes in the hamper, but his absentmindedness prevented that from happening.  
  
Declan sighed. He had to go to school whether he wanted to or not. He knew his mother wouldn't buy it if he faked sick, especially since he was a really terrible liar. He got out of bed and promptly tripped over his backpack. He had forgotten that he had been working on homework last night. He went out of the room and knocked on the door of the room next to his.  
  
"Nina," he called, "time to get up."  
  
The response was what he had been hearing for the past month. Nina's head popped out from behind the door with a huge grin on her face, "Three days until I turn eight!" she said happily.  
  
"Yeah, I know," Declan said, "let's go down to breakfast."  
  
Nina's grin broadened as she stepped out of her bedroom and started skipping down the steps to the kitchen. Declan followed her.  
  
Nina stopped short at the bottom of the stairs, and when Declan caught up to her, he could see why.  
  
His mother was sitting at the kitchen table. She had a letter in her right hand and with her left hand she was holding her head.  
  
She was crying.  
  
"Mom?" Declan blurted out.  
  
Declan's mother looked up and immediately got busy making breakfast muttering, "I'm sorry, I didn't know it was so late."  
  
Nina looked up at Declan. Needless to say, her grin had disappeared and was now replaced by a worried look.  
  
"It's okay, Nina," he said, hugging his sister, "why don't you go get dressed while Mom makes breakfast."  
  
Nina nodded and went back upstairs.  
  
Declan walked into the kitchen to find his mother scrambling eggs in a skillet. Whatever happened, it was over now, and she had gone into her 'busy mother mode' again, but what had happened? Declan needed to know.  
  
"Is something wrong, Mom?" he asked.  
  
She turned around and looked at him for a second, then a sad look came into her eyes and she went back to cooking.  
  
Declan came closer. "Mom, I really want to know."  
  
His mother swallowed, then she said, "Declan, your father has cancer."  
  
Declan's mouth dropped open. His father had cancer? Ever since he had been a little kid, he had always seen his Dad as someone ... well ... as someone who would never die, at least not until he was really old, and here he was, his Dad's death staring him in the face. Everything he had known was changed with his Mom's answer. If today's outlook hadn't been bad enough already, it now hit rock bottom.  
  
"Well, what's going to happen?" he asked.  
  
"He's going to have to go through surgery," his mother replied, turning off the stove and carrying the skillet to the table with a pot holder. She sat down in a chair. "but if that doesn't work ..." she trailed off as a tear squeezed out of her eye.  
  
Just then, Nina came down the stairs dressed in a bright pink T-shirt and blue jeans. "Is breakfast ready?" she asked.  
  
His Mom brushed away her tears and tried to look happy. "Yes, Nina," she replied, "breakfast is ready."  
  
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*  
  
"What's five times ten to the fourth power?" the math teacher, Mrs. Johnston asked.  
  
Declan raised his hand.  
  
"Yes, Declan?" she called on him.  
  
"Fifty-thousand," he answered.  
  
"That's right," the teacher replied, "let's try a harder one. What's six times ten to the eighth power?"  
  
Declan raised his hand again.  
  
"Anyone else?" Mrs. Johnston asked. The class was silent. Declan still had his hand raised. "Anyone?" she was looking a little desperate. "Okay, Declan," she conceded, "tell us the answer."  
  
"Six hundred million," he replied.  
  
"That's just about all the time we have today," she said, "so tomorrow we're going over exponents again because it seems that nobody understood."  
  
How hard was it to understand? You just take the number and add the amount of zeros that it's 'to the power of.' The bell rang. It was time for Science class. Declan picked up his backpack and left the room.  
  
"Hey, Geeklan!" a voice called from behind him, "Nice job in Math class!"  
  
'Geeklan' was a nickname some of the kids had given to Declan. The idea had come to them when a substitute teacher had pronounced his name 'Deeclan' while taking attendance. He usually let it slide, but today he was in a particularly bad mood.  
  
He turned to the boy, whose name was Jacob, and said, "Stop calling me that."  
  
"Why?" he asked mockingly.  
  
"Because I don't appreciate it." Okay, it sounded *a lot* better in his head.  
  
Jacob laughed, "Well, I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, Geeklan." he said sarcastically.  
  
Declan turned around and walked away. He shouldn't have bothered trying to get Jacob to stop. It would never happen. He went down the stairs to the Science room and sat in his usual seat. Unfortunately, his friend Paul wasn't here today, as if his day couldn't get any worse. He took out his Science folder and looked for his homework. It wasn't there. He must have left it somewhere in his bedroom. This was just great.  
  
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*  
  
Declan sat in the cafeteria, munching on his lunch. It was a turkey sandwich today, with an apple and a granola bar on the side and pudding for desert. When would his Mom remember that he didn't like turkey? Of course, she *was* under a lot of stress, which was completely understandable. He decided that he could live with turkey.  
  
After eating half of the sandwich and a bite out of the granola bar, he decided that he wasn't hungry anymore and saved the rest for later. Now it was time to spend his half-hour recess doing nothing because Paul wasn't there. Fun. He exited the cafeteria and went out the door to the playground. He found a bench to sit on and prepared to stay there for the rest of recess.  
  
Might as well get some thinking done.  
  
There was a lot to think about, especially since he had just learned that his Dad had cancer. Why him of all people? He was healthy. He was the kind of person who almost never got sick, and when he did, it was usually just a cold. Now this. This was so much worse.  
  
Then there was Nina. She had no idea. Of course, she had seen their mother crying just like he had, but she didn't know about Dad. How would she take it? She was only seven. Take that back, she'd be eight in three days.  
  
His thought were interrupted by a girl who was standing in front of him. She looked like she was about his age, but he had no idea who she was. "Are you all right?" she asked.  
  
"I'm fine," he lied. What was he supposed to say? Was he supposed to talk to her about how terrible his life was?  
  
"I'm Margaret," the girl said, "I'm new here. What's your name?"  
  
"Declan," Declan answered, "it's Irish."  
  
"Oh," Margaret said as she sat down, "are you sure you're all right? I heard what that guy said to you in the hall today."  
  
Declan had forgotten about that. "It's not that it's ..." He stopped. He didn't want to tell her.  
  
"What?" Margaret asked.  
  
Declan realized that he had to tell someone, and Margaret was probably the only one who would listen. "I just found out my Dad has cancer."  
  
"Oh," Margaret said sympathetically, "I'm so sorry."  
  
Declan stared at the ground, biting his lip to keep from crying. "It's just been a hard day for me, that's all ..."  
  
"I can imagine ..." Margaret said.  
  
The bell rang. It was time to go back to class.  
  
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*  
  
It was seven o'clock at night and Declan was doing his English homework, an essay on his favorite family memory. It was due on Friday, the day after Nina's birthday.  
  
My favorite family memory was on the Fourth of July when I was  
nine years old. My father took the whole family out in a boat in the middle  
of Monterey Lake to see the fireworks.  
  
That was all he had so far. At the moment, he wasn't really writing, but actually living the moment in his mind. He remembered it perfectly, the boat rocking from side to side, everyone bundled up in blankets because it was unusually cool for July. Everyone was so happy then. Declan was starting to wonder if they would ever have a family moment like that again.  
  
He put his notebook down and went down the stairs to the kitchen for a snack.  
  
"But Evan, there's no way we can afford this," his mother's voice drifted from the living room.  
  
"We can get through it, Laura," his Dad comforted, "we just have to pray and hope for the best."  
  
"There are just so many things we won't be able to get, like new clothes for Declan and ..." she stopped for a second, " ... and a present for Nina."  
  
A present for Nina?  
  
Declan ran upstairs and back to his room. He found his money bank on the table and counted how much he had. Twenty-one dollars and nineteen cents. He grabbed his bicycle helmet and went back downstairs.  
  
"I'm going on a bike ride, Mom!" he called as he went out the door.  
  
"Be back by six!" she called after him.  
  
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*  
  
Declan was walking through the aisles at the store that was a few blocks away from his house. He was trying to find something that Nina would like.  
  
Then he saw it. A deluxe art set. It was perfect. He picked it up and headed straight to the cashier.  
  
The cashier scanned the art set and it came to exactly twenty-one dollars and nineteen cents. Declan pulled out all of his money and gave it to the cashier. She had a hard time counting it, but in the end, it did come out to the exact amount. He took the art set and the receipt and put on his bicycle helmet as he headed out the door.  
  
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*  
  
Declan's alarm clock went off at six o'clock. He turned it off and excitedly got the wrapped art set out from under his bed. In the Dunn family, it was tradition for a person to get breakfast in bed on their birthday, so the rest of the family got up extra early to make it.  
  
Declan went out the door and tiptoed down the stairs so he wouldn't wake up Nina. At the bottom of the stairs, he was met by the aroma of a ham and cheese omelet cooking on the stove. Declan walked into the kitchen and found his Mom using two spatulas to lift the omelet out of the skillet and put it on a plate.  
  
When she saw Declan, she smiled and, noticing the present he was holding asked, "What's that?"  
  
"It's an art set for Nina," Declan answered.  
  
Mom's eyes suddenly filled with tears, but they were happy tears. She embraced her son and whispered, "Thank you, Declan,"  
  
"It's no problem," Declan said as he set the present on the kitchen table.  
  
Dad walked in the room. He spotted the present and gave both Declan and his Mother a confused look.  
  
"Declan got an art set for Nina," his Mom explained.  
  
Dad walked over to Declan and put his hand on his shoulder. "Thank you, son, this means a lot."  
  
Declan smiled.  
  
Declan's Mom put the finishing touches on Nina's breakfast, putting a candle on the toast, then she picked up the tray. Declan followed her, carrying the present. His Dad was last, with nothing to carry.  
  
"Happy Birthday to you," they started to sing as they walked up the stairs, "happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday dear Nina, Happy Birthday to you."  
  
Mom opened the door to Nina's room to find her sitting up in bed with that huge grin on her face they had all come to know and love. Mom placed the tray of food on her lap and said, "Make a wish, Nina,"  
  
Nina closed her eyes for a second, then blew out the candle that had been put in the toast. This was immediately followed by applause as Mom went to turn on the light.  
  
"I want to open the present first," Nina said, pointing to the present Declan held in his hands. Declan handed it to her sister who immediately tore open the wrapping paper. When she saw what was inside, her already wide grin grew even wider. "Thank you!" she said to her mother.  
  
"Don't thank me," Mom replied, "thank your brother."  
  
Nina gave her brother a big hug, "Thank you, Declan," she said.  
  
Declan didn't mind that he didn't have any money anymore. He was happy that his sister had gotten a present. That moment was a perfect family moment. Everyone was there. Everyone was happy. It was one of the last happy family moments that family would ever experience.  



	2. Peggy

Peggy rubbed foundation around her left eye. It was black and blue. She should have known not to get in the way, but she jumped in before she could control herself. Now she had to try to hide the mark.  
  
She remembered what happened. She had come home from skating practice to find her parents arguing. She could tell that her father had been drinking again. Just at that moment, he had said something really mean to her mother and she had jumped in to try to defend her. Then he got angry and ...  
  
Peggy couldn't think about it any more. It made her too mad. How come every time he said he was going to get sober, he always went back on his word? Why did it always happen? Every time he did something bad, he would always apologize afterwards, but it was getting to the point where his apologies didn't mean anything anymore.  
  
"Peggy," her mother called from downstairs, "you'd better hurry up, or you'll miss the bus."  
  
Peggy stepped back and looked at herself in the mirror. Her left eye still looked swollen, but at least it wasn't black and blue anymore.  
  
She exited the bathroom and went down the stairs, grabbing her backpack as she went out the door.  
  
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*  
  
Peggy stepped onto the large, yellow bus and scanned for a place to sit. Elizabeth, her best friend had saved her a seat. She walked over to the empty seat and sat down.  
  
After a moment of silence, Elizabeth looked at Peggy and asked, "What happened to your eye?"  
  
Elizabeth had always been the observant one, but right about now, Peggy wished that no one could see the evidence of her dysfunctional family, but at the same time, she wished that she could yell at the top of her lungs so someone would notice. She swallowed and said nothing.  
  
Elizabeth sighed, "Did he hit you again?" This had happened before; quite a few times.  
  
Peggy kept her attention focused on the seat in front of her.  
  
"Peggy, you can't just keep on living like this," Elizabeth said, obviously very worried.  
  
"I know," Peggy said softly, "but what am I supposed to do?"  
  
Peggy had a point. Elizabeth knew that something should be done, but she also knew that if she was in Peggy's place, she would also be afraid to do something. Elizabeth found herself asking the same question as Peggy. What was she supposed to do? Was she supposed to just sit there while all of this was happening to Peggy? She looked over to her best friend of six years. It hurt her to see her like this.  
  
There was no conversation the rest of the ride to school. Peggy was lost in her own thoughts and Elizabeth was in the awkward position of wanting to do something, but not knowing what to do.  
  
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*  
  
Peggy was trying to concentrate on her school work, but she was getting nowhere.  
  
The first problem was the assignment: an essay on her favorite family moment. That would have to be when the whole family went out camping and we were sitting around the fire, roasting marshmallows and making smores. Every time she would try to think about it, she would get a tear in her eye, which she would have to fight back so it wouldn't escape and smear the foundation around her eye. The last thing she wanted today was to let *anyone* see her black eye.  
  
Her second problem was everything that was on her mind. She had an ice skating performance that Saturday that she had to work on, not to mention her homework.  
  
She *did* have to finish writing this essay. It was due by the end of the hour and she only had one paragraph.  
  
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*  
  
"But I love him," Peggy said to Elizabeth. They had decided to spend recess inside today. "and I know that when he's sober, he loves me, too. I just ..." she paused a second, "I don't want to lose that side of him, the father that's in there somewhere."  
  
"Is it really worth it?" Elizabeth brought up something that had been torturing Peggy for a long time, "Is it worth going through the pain?"  
  
Peggy already knew the answer. She knew that it wasn't worth it. She knew that if she let this go on, it would only get worse. Those moments when he seemed like a true father would only become fewer and more spread apart.  
  
"You're right, Elizabeth," Peggy stammered, "it's not worth it."  
  
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*  
  
Peggy fell down on the ice for the fifth time in her routine. She quickly got up and went straight into the final spin. When she finished and looked up at her instructor, she saw that there was a very serious look on his face.  
  
"I know what I did wrong. I lost my balance. I can fix it." Peggy said, but she knew that wasn't was he was worried about.  
  
"Is something wrong, Peggy?"  
  
"No, I'm fine," Peggy forced herself to smile, "I just need to warm up, that's all."  
  
"Peggy," he said bluntly, "it usually doesn't take a half-hour for you to warm up."  
  
Peggy opened her mouth to protest.  
  
"You should probably take the rest of the session off and come back tomorrow when you're feeling better."  
  
Peggy sighed, "All right," She skated off the rink and sat down on a bench to unlace her skates.  
  
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*  
  
"And then I got my spelling test back and I got an A+!" Peggy's brother Benjamin said excitedly at the dinner table.  
  
"That's great, honey!" Mom said encouragingly.  
  
Benjamin bantered on about all of the things that had happened to him at school that day, with a few words of encouragement form Mom. Everyone else was silent. The tension was almost unbearable. Peggy felt as if she was about to snap, but she didn't want anything like that to happen around her brother.  
  
Peggy picked at her spaghetti. It was now cold, and she still hadn't eaten a bite.  
  
"May I be excused?" she asked almost inaudibly.  
  
"But you haven't eaten anything," her mother said worriedly.  
  
"I'm not hungry," Peggy stammered. She just wanted to get away. She wanted to run up to her room, throw herself on her bed and let herself cry.  
  
"All right," she conceded with a worried look on her face.  
  
Peggy picked up her dishes, brought them to her seat, and went out of the kitchen up the stairs to her bedroom.  
  
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*  
  
Peggy lay face down on her bed. She had cried all of the tears that would come and her pillow was now soaked. Her left eye was throbbing and each time she tried to wipe the tears away, it stung.  
  
Exhausted, she plunged into a fitful sleep.  
  
She found herself in her living room as an eight-year-old doodling in a notebook. All of the sudden, she heard the front door open, then slam shut.  
  
"Angela!" she heard his father yell from the doorway, his speech slurred, "Where are you?"  
  
Her mother, who was sitting on a chair across the room said, "Go up to your bedroom, Peggy,"  
  
"But Mom," Peggy protested, only to be given a stern, but slightly scared look from her mother. She obediently walked toward the stairs, but stopped half way up. Curiosity got the best of her.  
  
From her spot on the stairs, she heard snippets of conversation that quickly turned into an argument.  
  
"I am not going to pay for your problem anymore, Martin," her mother yelled, "you don't know what it's doing to our children."  
  
"Angela,"  
  
"No, listen to me, Martin!" her voice elevated, "Do you know how hard it is to explain to an eight-year-old that her father's a drunk?"  
  
Peggy couldn't listen to this anymore. She went up the stairs to her room and flung herself onto her bed.  
  
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*  
  
Peggy lifted her head from her pillow, which was still slightly damp. She looked at her clock. It was 10:36.  
  
From downstairs, she could hear her parents. She usually didn't do anything about it. She would just plug her ears and force herself to sleep, but tonight, it was different. She was sick and tired of this. It needed to change.  
  
With this resolution, she pushed herself off of her bed and went downstairs.  
  
"Stop it!" she said to her parents, who turned toward her.  
  
"Stay out of this, Peggy," her father said, "it doesn't concern you."  
  
"It doesn't concern me?" Peggy asked, fighting back tears, "I am the one who has to stand by and watch when you come home drunk. I am the one who has to put up with your fighting and your abuse. I ..." she broke down crying, but fought to gain her speech back, "This does concern me just as much as it concerns both of you!" she finished.  
  
Her mother went over to Peggy and held her, stroking her black curls. "It's okay Peggy," she said comfortingly. Then, turning toward her husband, she said, "Martin, I ... I want you to leave."  
  
It was silent in the room, except for Peggy's sobs. After about a minute, her father said in a hushed voice, "Angela, I --"  
  
"No!" mother yelled, "No more excuses, Martin! I can't take them anymore!"  
  
There was another long silence. Finally, he said, "All right, I'll leave,"  
  
Peggy was in shock. Even when things had been at their worst, she had never though that it would come down to this. Would she ever see him again?  
  
"You should try to get some sleep, Peggy," mother suggested.  
  
Peggy nodded.  
  
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*  
  
Peggy lay down in her bed, looking out her window. From where she was, the moon was in full sight and shining brightly. Next to it, there was a particularly bright star.  
  
She had the sudden urge to wish on it. Of course, she was way too old to believe in that. She decided it would be more practical to make a promise, and she knew exactly what it was going to be.  
  
"I promise," she whispered, "that whoever I marry will be a good man, and that I will do everything in my power to not let this happen to me again."  
  
As juvenile as it was, it made her feel better, and she was able to fall asleep.  
  
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*  
  
Martin Henderson walked into her daughter's bedroom for probably the last time. He saw the moonlight shining on her face. She was beautiful. He could also plainly see the mark that he himself had left. What had he done to her?  
  
He realized that it was probably best that he left before he did something worse.  
  
"Good-bye, Peggy," he whispered, "I'm sorry." 


	3. Miranda

Miranda held out the last note of Pachabel's Cannon and opened her eyes. Of course, she was still alone, as she had been when she started the piece.  
  
She did this a lot. Whenever she was bored and had nothing to do, she would go outside and play to the grapes. They weren't much of an audience, but they were better than her parents, when they were home. Today they were at a dinner party.  
  
Miranda put her violin back in its case and walked down the rows of grapevines toward her house. She stopped to open the door, then went inside.  
  
Miranda's three-story house was the kind of place that someone who didn't know the place would get lost in. It had winding staircases and long hallways, and even a little hiding place that Miranda didn't think her parents knew about.  
  
It was a little room at the end of a small, narrow hallway that had become Miranda's own little clubhouse ... only without a club. She was right at home here, with her chemistry set and pictures of her favorite heavy metal bands lining the walls. A few years ago, she had learned that the room was remarkably soundproof and she could play her music as loud as she wanted without disturbing anyone.  
  
Today she didn't feel like doing experiments like she usually did. Instead, she turned on her music and just sat in her chair, thinking.  
  
Her parents were going out once again, and they had (once again) left her at home by herself. Well, not completely by herself. There was the cook, but that was it, and she wasn't that much fun to be around anyway. The naturally introverted part of her was happy this way. She minded her own business while her parents did the same, but there was a small part of her that wanted *real* parents.  
  
Okay, so technically, she did have real parents, they *were* her biological mother and father, but her parents didn't really act like parents.  
  
It wasn't that they were bad people. There wasn't anything wrong with them, they just weren't cut out to be parents. They basically had this little girl that they didn't know what to do with, so they just kinda let her raise herself.  
  
Sometimes she reminded herself that she *should* be thankful because she had gotten such a good life, but no matter how hard she tried, she always found herself wishing that she could just have a normal life. She wanted to live in a normal house with normal parents. She could even live with having a normal yard. The grapevines weren't much fun anyway.  
  
No matter how hard she wished, it would never come true. She was stuck with the life she had gotten.  
  
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*  
  
Miranda stared at her blank piece of paper. There was absolutely no way she was going to be able to write this essay. It was an essay on a favorite family moment, but when she looked back, she realized she didn't have any family moments to choose from.  
  
That's what she told the teacher, but she had just said that everyone has family moments. She obviously didn't know Miranda's family.  
  
Miranda sighed. She knew she had to write something, but what was she supposed to write? Maybe she could make something up.  
  
She didn't know. She was stumped.  
  
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*  
  
Miranda sat under a tree in the playground at school. The tree had branches that had gone so long without trimming that they touched the ground and provided her with the perfect leafy hideout. She had acquired a lot of hideouts over the years. She did this because she knew that if people saw her sitting alone, they would instinctively come over and ask, "Are you all right?"  
  
That got to be so annoying. It was like they had never seen an introvert before. They don't realize that some people prefer their own company over others. Not that the others were bad, she just wasn't part of any of those cliques.  
  
Then there were the teachers.  
  
"Miranda does very good work, but she's very quiet,"  
  
So what was wrong with being quiet? Why was it that everyone thought that "extrovert" was a synonym for "normal"?  
  
Of course, she wasn't normal. She was far from it.  
  
What kind of person listens to heavy metal *and* classical music? What kind of person is more interested in chemistry than PE? Is there anyone who wouldn't trade her for her life in a heartbeat? Of course, those people don't know that lonely feeling she got in the pit of her stomach when she was in the middle of her huge house, with no one else there.  
  
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*  
  
Miranda was back in her clubhouse, but this time, she was listening to Faure's Requiem. She was entranced by the music.  
  
Lux aeterna,  
Luceat eius,  
Luceat eius, domine.  
  
This was her favorite part of the piece. It had a mysterious beauty about it. It almost made her feel like she was underwater. She could close her eyes and just imagine the beauty of it.  
  
She didn't notice someone coming in.  
  
"It's amazing what you've done with this place," Miranda turned around to see her grandmother standing in the doorway.  
  
"Grandmum!" she jumped from her chair and gave her grandmother a huge hug, "How did you know I was here?"  
  
"This was my little hideout when I was your age," Grandmum said, "I figured you would have discovered it by now."  
  
Miranda's jaw dropped, "This was *your* hideout?"  
  
"Of course!" Grandmum replied, "Being the introvert that I was, I needed a place to be alone."  
  
Miranda smiled. It was nice to know she wasn't the only one.  



End file.
